


Gentle Mo(u)rning

by Yulicia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Character Study, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fluff, General Eden Raid Spoilers, M/M, once again i am writing things for myself that you can also read if u want, past canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28350111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulicia/pseuds/Yulicia
Summary: Beneath the soft early morning glow, discussions of past and present are had.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Gentle Mo(u)rning

Urianger isn’t quite sure that he believes in luck - the dear Lady was oft the counterbalance to the immutable threads of the universe; the strings that bound fate into a neat collection of predictable events. Happenstance and luck were wrenches thrown into that careful design, yet he could not help but  _ feel _ incredibly lucky to have Thancred curled against him, breathing softly in content slumber. 

The true morning was still just out of reach with the very first rays of sunlight only just beginning to peak in through the opening of their tent. It was a soft light, the sun still sleepy and calm. It was quite the change from the years before when the ever present Light had blazed in whenever it felt like it, stopped only by heavy blankets and dark walls. It was a return to normality for a world that had been bereft of it for nigh on a century; the promise of a future worth saving. 

The day promised a return to their work in the Empty, another morning of aetherological work for Urianger, and another afternoon of reliving their triumphs over past Primals for the Warrior of Light. After their bout with Titan, all seemed to be going according to plan. It was hard work, but it was tremendously rewarding - the gentle splashing of the water outside and the smell of soil beneath them a testament to their victories. To think that something as simple as a reintroduction of an elemental catalyst was enough to reinvigorate an otherwise aetherically stagnant piece of land was extraordinary.

A part of him wishes there were others here to see it; his mentor and his lost friend, their hands always heavy against his heart no matter how far the years past. 

He thinks Moenbryda in particular would have liked to see this. It was an extension of her research, after all. She had always been the smarter of them both, and how cruel the fates had been to have taken her from the world and left but he as the custodian for her genius. There had been those who tried to comfort him with talk of everlasting souls, but he is not a fool and knows she isn’t here, even incomporally. The manner of her demise had made sure of that. 

“You’re thinking again,” came the mumble from beside him, a voice heavy with sleep. Urianger flinches, startling. He hadn’t known Thancred was awake. With his attention caught by the sound of his voice, Urianger’s eyes flick towards its owner, whose eyes were still gently closed. Ah, not  _ that  _ awake, then. “You drum your fingers when something’s bothering you—I can feel it against my shoulder. A gil for your thoughts?” 

Urianger freezes, caught in a motion he wasn’t aware he was doing. With some effort his fingers still against Thancred’s skin. He was very warm, Urianger realises idly, and his skin—though marred with scars (mostly old, but a few were new)—was very soft. It’s something he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop noticing. “‘Tis naught to concern thyself with, t’was but a passing fancy of a place long lost to time,” Urianger finally says once he is able to speak. 

It’s a half-truth at best and Urianger knows it. They both know it. 

“You don’t want to talk about it, fine,” Thancred replies, still mumbling against his skin. He doesn’t sound angry. If anything he sounds resigned. “It best not be something important.”

Urianger holds back a wince. “That lesson hath been most thoroughly taught, I assure thee. Never again will such a misfortune come to pass under any manner of fabrication spoken from mine own lips—whether that be one of mine own creation or no.”

An oath he has sworn before, and one he would be willing to swear again. Lying always ate at him, it was best to try to avoid such endeavours in future—where possible, of course. It wasn’t always completely his choice. 

Thancred shakes his head. His hair tickles a little against Urianger’s chest. “You misunderstand me. I don’t mean world endingly important—though that  _ is  _ good to hear—but important to  _ you.  _ A burden shared need not be solely those with the weight of entire Stars.” 

Urianger is silent, momentarily stunned. 

“Would you like to try again?” Thancred asks. There’s cheek to the words, just the slight teasing edge in his voice. Nevertheless, the words are sincere.

Urianger steals a glance at him, and now sees warm brown eyes open and looking up at him. He should wither beneath this gaze, but instead it only feels familiar. 

“A ghost lays her hand upon mine heart, and her touch is not so easy to forget. I see her in the work that we hath come to take, her mind the catalyst for theories of mine own creation—or perhaps only of mine expansion, built upon foundations long set.” 

It feels like confession, somehow. Like pain he hadn’t wanted anyone to see—though he supposes Thancred doesn’t quite count as just ‘anyone’ anymore. 

He hears Thancred suck in a deep breath beside him. “That was my guess. I know better than any that time is not the cure for all wounds.” He clears his throat. “She would be proud of what we have achieved here, what  _ you  _ have achieved. You have probably heard this all before but mayhap it is better to think of the positives, rather than dwell on what is not. To give her a future, at least; a living legacy, one not of sorrow, but of joy.”

Urianger gives a heavy sigh. He knows Thancred is, unfortunately, right. The grief does not weigh as heavily as it once did, but it instead feels akin to a phantom limb; the nagging existence of something that should be but is not. It no longer aches, but he can still plainly feel it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling it, and the best thing to do was make that feeling  _ mean  _ something.

“I can only apologise for spoiling the morning calm,” Urianger says quietly.

Thancred snorts a laugh. “Nonsense. It would take a lot more to spoil the sight of waking up like this. ‘Tis unfortunate that we can’t just stay like this for the rest of the day. I never realise how exhausting this lack of aether is ‘til my head hits the pillow.” He smirks to himself, his lips curling into that little grin that appeared moments Thancred was about to say something he considered quite clever. “Bugger the world, can’t the Warrior of Light handle it? He has been thus far.”

“Somehow the prospect of leaving the Warrior of Light to his own devices does not fill mine heart with boundless confidence.” 

That pulls a laugh from Thancred, and it makes him smile without thinking. The sunshine has entered the tent and it’s brightness has been mightily overshadowed by the glow in Thancred’s voice. 

“You are right, of course you are,” Thancred concedes. “I would not trust our new guest on her own, either.”

He speaks of the Oracle of Darkness, and Urianger hums in agreement. Though she was clearly but a teenager—evident in her extraordinarily prickly nature; he hadn’t forgotten her jabs—it would be folly to trust her completely. The power she wielded was strange—otherworldly, even. Though he was not one to jump so immediately to conclusions it  _ did  _ remind him of the power some Ascians beheld. But that would be research for later. Right now there was a more pressing (but not necessarily useful) quandary on Urianger’s mind. 

There is a long pause before he speaks. “The footing here is uneven,” Urianger muses aloud. 

There is some shifting as Thancred moves to look at him. Thancred frowns at him, brows pinched in plain confusion. “Beg your pardon?” 

Urianger quirks a brow. “I hath bared the secrets of mind and of soul, yet thou hast done naught to share thine own.”

“Oh, sharing secrets in the dark are we?” Thancred jokes. Urianger feels Thancred hand against his ribs, his fingers tracing circular patterns on his skin. “I’ve naught much to say, frankly. No secrets to bare.”

That doesn’t seem true, either. Thancred always had dozens of things he wasn’t saying, words carefully hidden behind tight lips before the right time came to say it. 

“None at all?” 

Thancred laughs to himself. “Well, besides a few stray thoughts here and there. How warm the body beneath me is, how much I would like nothing more than to fall asleep upon it once more. How, when I lay like this with my ear pressed to skin I can hear a steady heartbeat. How I can see the piece of hair caught in a cowlick that I only see after a restful night. How dearly I would like to kiss you, but how knowledgeable I am in that our breaths in this state will be no fun for anyone. How I was planning to follow through with it later, anyway. Does that satisfy your thirst for secrets?”

Urianger can feel himself growing a little red. He oft forgets how easily such easy flirting can simply pour from Thancred’s lips, endless as an ocean’s waves. “That was not quite what I had intended.” 

He feels Thancred’s cold nose against him as he presses his face in Urianger’s chest. His words as barely audible as he next speaks; “I know, but it’s things you should hear all the same.” He feels Thancred’s lips press against his collarbone. He shivers beneath it, unable to help but feel dearly loved. “Still, much as I would love to whittle the hours away in here I am sure Ryne is already waiting for us, the early riser that she is.” 

“Who did she get that from, I wonder?” Urianger voices, his words just a touch smug. 

“There’s so much of you in her it scares me,” Thancred replies. If Urianger wasn’t mistaken he could almost describe the words as wistful. “Next she’ll be lecturing me on the nature of Il Mheg’s native flora.”

“I do recall mine lessons saving thee from pixie entrapment once or twice.” 

A problem they would soon no longer need to handle, if Beq Lugg’s work continued apace. He shakes his head. Now was not the time to dwell on it. To lose oneself to the despair of a farewell long before the goodbyes have been said was a fool’s move. Though itch to predict as he might, he needed to keep himself tethered to the here and now, lest his heart grow too heavy for him to carry. 

Thancred gives him a flat look. “Once. Now up you get.”

To do that he would need to shed to weight of another; another who, though the one barking orders at him, did not seem to be following through with them himself. 

“A task rendered nigh impossible by the presence of thy body atop mine.”

Thancred groans, flopping back onto his back. Urianger feels the chill of his parting nigh on immediately. He almost regrets his words. “You got me,” Thancred says. “Another dawn. Time to greet it.”

Urianger nods, shifting to rise from the bedding. Another dawn. He prays they both remain to see many more together. 


End file.
